Under Control
by EMP1997
Summary: When a certain king of hell resurrects Balthazar, surely it can't be out of the kindness of his own heart? Crowley has plans for the angel if he can just get him to agree to his deal. Will Balthazar accept or will need a little persuasion from the demon- and if he deals, where will that leave Balthazar?
1. Dead man on the table

Casually, the man in the black suit entered the room. Any joy or excitement he felt for what was about to happen was not apparent from his pace of walking- he was Crowley for Christ sake, nothing was going to cause him to lose his elegance or demeanour. His face however told a different story. Mischievous, wicked eyes had rested on the centre piece of the dark, empty room from the moment the King of Hell had entered the room, and had not removed them just as a predator would not lose sight of its prey. At the heart of the room, a metallic- almost autopsy like- table had been constructed upon which lay a shirtless, motionless man. When Crowley arrived at the foot of the bed, he paused and allowed himself to savour the moment of victory that he had achieved, a smirk emerging on his face as he did so. Licking his lips, he began to examine the body in front of him; short blond hair, which he noticed framed his face well; a handsome appearance, sporting chiselled features with soft, fair skin; and a strong, well-built physique, particularly considering the vessels age. "Balthazar", the demon whispered in his velvet soft voice.

Of course, getting hold of the recently departed angel's vessel had been fairly easy- easier than it should have been at least. After becoming God, the baby faced, trench coat loving angel had clearly not given much thought to the brother he had murdered just a few hours before (certainly not enough to return his body to heaven, or at least give him an appropriate burial). Well, that was his mistake. Getting the angel's essence, his life force that had been removed when the blade had passed through his intercostal muscles was another thing entirely. So many deals made. So many souls traded away. The banks vaults of hell were nearly empty and Crowley had almost run out of chips to bet with, but the investment would pay of when he had Balthazar under his control.

Slowly, the demon traced his fingers up and down the man's chest. "I suppose I should appreciate the quiet while it lasts" he dryly thought to himself. The vessel had been restored to its former glory with the only mark still present being the stab wound that ran through the middle of him. After firmly securing the body to the table by the wrists, ankles, and torso, the demon climbed onto the table and straddled the figure that lay upon it. Reaching into the inside pocket of his tailored suit, Crowley extracted a vile whose contents shined so bright, it illuminated the entire room. When he poured it on to his hand it formed a sustained mist around it which Crowley was able to control. Now for the difficult bit. With his free hand, the King of Hell pulled apart the wound, exposing the inside of the body in the process, and began to work the mist covered hand inside. Concentrating hard, the demon began to disperse the blinding vapour around the vessel, feeling as it flowed into each space and willing the two elements to connect with each other. The process was painful and tiring, and was taking longer than anticipated. "Come on you fucking bastard!" the demon cursed through gritted teeth. "I have come too far to be stopped by you." As if in response, the motionless piece of meat below him suddenly began to real against the restrains tying it to the table. With an arched back, the angel let out a terrible scream that nearly made Crowley let go, but the stubborn demon did not relent until he felt for certain that he had been successful. Panting, the demon extracted his hand just as the angels eyes rolled back into his head. After concluding that there were still life signs present in his captive, Crowley withdrew from his position and went to pour himself a scotch. Resurrection- as first times go, it could have gone worse.


	2. The Proposition

Returning to the room, Crowley was fairly dismayed that the angel had not regained consciousness. He swiftly walked over to the still man and bent down so that his mouth was in line with Balthazar's ear. "Rise and shine!" the demon bellowed. No response. Right, new tactic. Crowley raised his hand before bringing it down towards Balthazar, slapping him across the face with as much strength as he could muster. Other than the very satisfying sound, nothing happened and the angel did not awaken. Sighing, the king of hell brought out a syringe from his trouser pocket and removed the safety cover from the needle. Blood from an altar boy, ground angel feather, a pinch of the sands of time and a couple of ingredients, all enchanted with an Enochian spell- or angel adrenaline as he liked to refer to it. Viciously, Crowley brought down the needle on Balthazar's leg and pushed the plunger, forcing the crimson liquid into the angel's blood stream. Well... had it worked? Crowley cocked his head to the right and looked his prisoner up and down in anticipation. From this angle, the recently resurrected vessel looked extremely vulnerable, easy to manipulate certainly, but he saw something else in exposed man. He began to reach a hand towards the others face. Suddenly, the angel sat up against his restraints and took a sharp, pained intake of breath. The abrupt change in situation shook Crowley from his thoughts.

"How very dramatic," the demon sang with his thick London accent. Frantically gasping for air, Balthazar was too content on trying to control himself to really acknowledge just who was standing above him. Something was coursing through his veins that burnt hotter than holy fire, but at the same time the substance was hot wiring his dormant brain- the adjustment was difficult to put it lightly. With screwed up eyes, the angel tried to take control of his over stimulated brain and discipline his senses into coherent thoughts, only opening them when he was fully ready to face whatever creature had shackled him to this table. However, when Balthazar did finally open his eyes, he was greeted with the sight of a man dressed in a black suit staring down at him like a hungry animal. "Now", the suited man with the wicked eyes whispered. "If you're sitting comfortably, we'll begin."

Dawning on the realisation of just who was addressing him, Balthazar recoiled and attempted to put as much distance between himself and the demon. "Careful dear, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself. Honestly, those binds aren't breaking any time soon and this display of struggle is just making you look pathetic." Balthazar knew a lost cause when he saw one and stopped struggling against the restraints- there was no point in losing strength just to look defiant. Instead he decided to fight fire with fire and meet Crowley's retort with one of his own.

Turning to look Crowley directly in the face he asked, "Did you really just resurrect me so that you could throw petty taunts at me? As uses of time go, that's a pretty poor choice. Have you ever tried joining a book club- maybe a pottery class?"

"I can see why Cas killed you now. Oh sorry," he mockingly apologised when he noticed the look that flashed in the angels eyes. "Touchy subject? The double crosser finally gets double crossed- tell me Balthazar, what's it like to get stabbed in the back by your best friend?

"Not nearly half as bad as being in your company darling," the blond retorted. "So, I'm guessing you brought me back for an actual reason, not just dance this dance with you? Whatever your proposition is ask away, I'm starting to get back cramp."

Crowley chuckled. "It's straight down to business with you isn't it? No foreplay. No messing around. Honestly, it's kind of a turn on," the king of perdition hummed. Moving away from his captive, Crowley began to explain the terms of his deal. "For the kind hearted action of resurrecting your existence, I want you. A renewable annual agreement to give over your mind, body and soul to me, the king of hell. Upon sacrificing these three items, you will be converted from the sorry creature I see before me into a devil of hell. My personal servant to fulfil all demands I make- primarily to gather souls for hades and remove my enemies. So... what do you say?

Balthazar's voice grew hard. "No", he spat at the demon.

Positioning himself at the head of the table, directly above Bathazar's head, Crowley looked down at the angel and tilted his head. "You're really not in a position to argue darling" Crowley responded. "Balthazar, you are the least loyal, most self-serving angel in the entire garrison- making deals with demons is your M.O."

"I guess you don't know me so well," Balthazar said with as much force as he could; eyes never leaving the ones staring down at him. "I refuse!"

Licking his lips, Crowley bent down until his breath touched the angel's face, sending shivers down Balthazar's spine in the process. Then the king of hell grabbed a fistful of the man's hair and pulled the side of his head towards his own lips. "Part of me was hoping that you would say no," Crowley whispered into Balthazar's ear, clicking the fingers on his spare hand as he did so.


End file.
